


Nothing's Perfect

by MapleleafCameo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: First Time, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slow and Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 11:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: Nothing's Perfect, but Jack's love for Bitty is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Characters from the wonderful [Ngozi](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com) from her web comic [Check, Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com)

Nothing’s perfect.

 

First times are usually fumbling and full of self-conscious, erratic movements until you learn your partner’s rhythms.

 

Jack’s been there and had those awkward moments where it ends too quickly, or nothing comes of it, or there’s an elbow to the face or, God forbid, a knee to the groin.

 

But it’s Bitty.

 

With Bitty, it doesn't matter.

 

With Bitty, it will be perfect, simply because it’s Bitty.

 

Every time Jack touches his face, it fills him with wonder. To be allowed to have this, to hold him, the pink infused skin under his palms, thumbs brush the curve of cheeks as he counts the sprinkle of freckles, like stars in the sky. He quakes with it, shivers with desire, need, joy.

 

The blush, which always hovers beneath the peaches and cream, blooms as he presses his lips to Bitty's, first with gentleness, tenderness, then with hunger, unending, bottomless hunger. He flicks the edge of the pert mouth with his tongue, tastes raspberries, sweet and tart, like Bitty himself.

 

Lips part, bodies press tight, yearn to fuse, to melt together but slow and soft, not rushed, poured into a crucible. Heat simmers throughout Jack, making his skin itch. Bitty causes him to shake apart and brings him back, reassembles him into something new. He wants to be unrestrained, calcining any uncertainty; he needs to be rash, impulsive.

 

But not quite yet.

 

With Parse it had been slick and hard and fast, flash and bang. Over before it had begun, a release of pent-up hormones and an encumbrance of feelings.

With Bitty, it’s like the first hint of colour in a peach or a rose or a summer’s day, the promise of what will come, everlasting, surprising him until it appears, richly hued and saturated.

 

Bitty’s eyes stay closed. He traces the upturned nose with his own, kisses the eyelids, buries into strawberry blonde strands, inhales the citrus of shampoo, the scent of sweat underneath.

 

Blinking his eyes open, the brown just edging the black, making them darker than usual, Bitty groans and stretches up to crush Jack’s mouth, his arms reach as far around as he can.

 

Jack tumbles them onto the bed, spreads Bitty out beneath him, kisses every inch of exposed skin. Bitty’s breath comes in short gasps, and he clutches the sheets.

He sits back on his heels, knees on either side of the prone body. He bites his lip and trails his hand down the front of the t-shirt Bitty’s wearing until he gets to the bottom. Raising an eyebrow, he silently asks permission. Nothing’s started, and already Bitty can't speak; his skin even rosier with the knowledge of what Jack will do to him. Perspiration beads up on his temples, he flings an arm across his eyes, peeks out below. He nods, and Jack trails his finger under the hem of the t-shirt, caresses fevered skin. Bitty moans, and it sends shock waves through Jack, he responds in kind, and becomes impossibly hard, his jeans far too tight. He leans forward and captures Bitty’s mouth again, tongues touch. A hand clasps the back of his neck and he lifts him up so he can get rid of the shirt, pausing only long enough to pull it off. Nuzzles down the lithe neck and across his chest, the nipples the same colour as his lips.

 

Rocking into him, friction a beautiful, painful, overwhelming feeling, Bitty places a hand on Jack’s chest, fingers press in. Jack breaks off, ice blue eyes locked with chocolate brown.

 

“Please,” Bitty says.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“God, Jack, yes, please, we’ve waited…”

 

First, he takes off his own clothes. Bitty’s eyes widen at the sight of Jack’s cock, full and thick. Crawling back onto the bed, Jack unbuttons the stiff jeans and pulls at them. He noses the briefs underneath, the smell of him devastating. The cotton is soaked through, the bulge underneath full and pushing up on the material. Panting, Bitty writhes underneath him.

 

“Please,” he whispers again.

 

The briefs slide off and his fingertips lightly brush against the rosy cock, long and thin, compact, just like Bitty. It twitches and his stomach muscles contract. Bitty covers his face with his hands and with a breathy laugh, whines.

 

Nipples kissed each given particular attention, each laved until pointed, the areola pebbling.

 

Bitty shivers and as Jack reaches his stomach, he laughs, golden and burnished, just like him. The crystal sound bounces around the room. He runs his hands through Jack’s hair, pushing a bit.

 

Jack reaches back up and kisses him on the mouth.

 

“Patience,” he smiles. “I want you to feel good. I want to make you feel so good.”

 

Bitty is so delectable, so edible; his tight, muscular stomach tightens as Jack peppers it with kisses. He pauses at his belly button and swipes his tongue inside, insistent, kitten flicks.

 

“Stop, stop, stop. That tickles,” he giggles.

 

Grinning at him, Jack does and grasps the slim hips, shifts him closer, the feel of Bitty tight against him, brushing against his own groin, is almost too much.

 

“Are you ready? Is this okay?”

 

Lips bitten, swollen, he nods. “Yes, oh lord yes, please.”

 

Kisses to the tip, a quick lick of the slit, he breathes in his scent, mouths and then surrounds it. Warm and wet, the taste uniquely Bitty.

 

“Jack.”

 

Working him up and down, long slow pulls, strokes the heated velvet, his thumb passing over the head, glossy with pre-cum, he takes his time, brings him to the edge and then backs off.

 

“Jack, oh god, Jack.”

 

“Say my name.”

 

“Jack.”

 

Jack squeezes his eyes closed and rests his head against the taut stomach and counts to twenty.

 

“You okay?”

 

“When you say my name, I, it just…I can't explain. The sound of it settles inside, in here. It makes me yours, like a, like a brand, I guess.” Self-consciousness turns his own skin red.

 

Bitty caresses his leg.

 

“Jack.”

 

Mock growling, he holds him firmly and strokes up, mouth and tongue go down. Soon, soon, soon, he groans and spills, comes in shuddering waves.

 

Jack pets him, gentles him.

 

Bitty breath evens out, and he blindly grasps at Jack who guides him to wrap around his girth. Cursing and shaking, within a handful of strokes, he comes, a deep ache, inside, clutches his heart. It’s fireworks, and it’s rockets, and it’s stars exploding, and it’s none of those, too.

 

Bracing himself on his arms and he leans over Bitty, chest heaves, sweat drips, and then he slowly comes back. Bitty’s a wreck, a glorious, beautiful mess. He runs his hand across his chest through the come.

 

Bitty laughs again, tired and spent, “Eww, Jack!” But he sits up and kisses him, kisses him, hard and deep, pours himself into each press of lips, sinks into him. Jack opens his mouth, lets Bitty in, lets him in as no one else has ever been anywhere near him. He tastes salt. Bitty is crying.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s all right. Hey.” He holds him close, holds him so close while the tears rain harder. Bitty sobs and he kisses each tear, each river, kisses his forehead and cheeks.

 

Padding off to the bathroom, he wets a facecloth and brings it back. He wipes and cleans Bitty, with the same attention and care as he’d made love to him.

 

Tossing the face cloth into the hamper, he pulls the sheets up over them, wraps him up and pulls him to his chest, face presses into him, chin on top of his head.

 

Bitty calms, although he still sniffles.

 

“I love you, Bits. I love you so much.”

 

He feels a kiss pressed under his chin.

 

“I love you, Jack. I love you.” Fresh wetness runs down Jack’s chest. Bitty trembles.

 

He kisses the top of his head. “It’s all right.”

 

“Yes, just incredibly overwhelming,” he laughs, muted and tired. “I had no idea. Oh, sweetheart. It’s never like that when it’s, you know when it’s just me.”

 

“No, of course not,” he chuckles.

 

“I don't know if I’m gonna survive you.” He shudders again, takes a deep, hiccupping breath and Jack knows he’s finished crying.

 

Soon, too soon, Bitty’s breath changes and he sleeps.

 

Jack stays awake and listens.

 

And falls even more, impossibly, in love.

 

Nothing’s perfect.

 

But Jack’s love for Bitty is.

 


End file.
